


Gasoline

by nerdgirlwalking



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 20:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5306411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdgirlwalking/pseuds/nerdgirlwalking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometime in a Samaritan free future Shaw comes home after an extended mission out of town and walks in on something rather unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> So, full disclosure this is probably a little weird. I don’t think this one was sure where it wanted to go tonally. The original intent was pure fluff but then surprise Eeyore mode. C’est la vie. Shoot’s my happy ship place for the moment, but they still want to work through some stuff, apparently. This one is a standalone, not affiliated with the Function verse. Think of it as some time in the brightest Shoot future. AKA life will probably never go down exactly this smoothly for our girls or Team Machine but I wanted to have fun with a trope and this was the strange result.

 

It had been an easy decision to steal a truck. Number taken care of, bleeding bad guys on their way to a prison hospital, Sameen Shaw found herself at the mercy of an early winter storm at a private airport in the wilds of Pennsylvania. No flights were going to go out that night and perhaps not even the next day, so it was either steal the truck or sit around for god knows how long in an airport too small to have a coffee kiosk. She hadn’t seen Root in three weeks. Not a hard choice.

 

She’d driven the stolen truck most of the way, ditching it somewhere in Brooklyn. The team was no longer being hunted but the authorities remained doggedly against the friendly borrowing of a ride, go figure, so that meant parking in Brooklyn. From there she had hopped the subway and then after that she walked for the remainder of the trip. Shaw probably should have stopped off to check in with Finch, but since she hadn’t been home in weeks; she had decided that the odd little man could wait on the mission debrief.

 

Things with Root had been a bit…strained, when Shaw had left town almost a month ago. Scars from those missing months in Samaritan’s care meant that even nearly two years later Root hated for Shaw to take on missions alone, especially extended missions out of town apparently. She had pleaded with Shaw to wait for her to be free to go with to no avail. “No, it has to be now. And according to Harold, She says it has to be me.”

 

“But,” Root started to argue.

 

“Do you trust Her or not?” Shaw snapped. She was more than capable of fulfilling this mission. The damn Machine could see that, why couldn’t Root?

 

Root shook her head, “It’s not about trusting Her; it’s about us sending you out there alone without backup.”

 

“Which happens with you and John all the time. Forget trusting Her, do you trust me? Either I’m a full member of this team with the same expectations or I’m not, Root.” She had walked out after that. Dick move in hindsight; but at the time Shaw knew she had a job to do and the other woman was standing in her way for no rational reason.

 

“Except it’s not irrational to her, seeing as she once watched you die when you decided to go all lone wolf,” Shaw grumbled to herself as she stomped down the sidewalk towards their building. She knew she was right about going on the mission alone. Root would have stuck out like a sore thumb with those guys. White girl really could not have run with the Culebras undetected. And Shaw was standing here job done without a scratch. Well okay with bruised ribs, but honestly the number tried to hit her with a Buick, making it out with a couple of bruises was a win. Meanwhile, the bad guys would all need several knee surgeries, so obviously the Machine sending Shaw in was the right call.

 

“But I could have been less of a bitch to Root about it.” She didn’t feel bad about her decision for obvious reasons, but she knew Root well enough to know that she’d appreciate the fact that Shaw recognized she could have handled things better. This was the first time they had had to deal with a situation quite like this. The Machine hadn’t asked Shaw to be out of town for so long on her own since before everything went down with Samaritan. She should have expected it to touch on some scars for Root.

 

Having reached her destination, Shaw glanced up at the windows of their apartment. They had been officially living together for about five months now. It had been good, real good. Other than having to deal with computer shit everywhere, living with Root was surprisingly easy. The sex was amazing, she never left hair in the shower drain, and she made sure the milk, provided by actual cows, never went out of date leaving Shaw without the ability to have cereal whenever the mood struck her.

 

The other woman was likely off on a job somewhere, though the Machine had informed Shaw via text message that Root was currently in town. Shaw would take a quick nap and then maybe go and pick up some stuff for dinner. She would bet that Root had barely eaten more than apples and cup noodles while she was gone. It would be a peace offering. Root liked when Shaw cooked for her and Shaw liked food that couldn’t be sourced from the average college dorm room. Win/win.

 

She was surprised to hear music coming from the back of the apartment when she unlocked the front door. “Root?” Shaw called out but she didn’t get an answer. She dropped her bag and kicked off her shoes not wanting to track remnants of the salty sidewalk slush any further into their home. No reply came. She didn’t think anything was immediately wrong, the music was pretty loud; Root probably just couldn’t hear her over it. Shaw started towards the bedroom.

 

She noticed her favorite sniper rifle sitting out on the breakfast bar as she passed the kitchen. She hoped Root hadn’t wasted such an elegantly designed piece of weaponry on some idiot’s kneecap. Shaw made a mental note to ask Root about it later, and to make sure she cleaned it properly. In fact she decided she’d use the gun as a way to break the ice between them when she reached the open bedroom door. Shaw opened her mouth to begin questioning Root about the use of her gun, but all thought quickly left her when she saw what was happening in the room.

 

The thing about Root was she could leave Shaw stunned even without her trusty taser at her side.

 

Root was stretched across the seat of a chair. She was dressed or rather undressed in a matching set of black lingerie. It was fancier than her usual fare, lacy, and cut to maximize her figure. Shaw thought she noticed a flash of sparkle as Root canted her hips upwards. The move was in synch with the beat of the music. Was Root dancing in the chair? Were those sequins? Was Shaw actually in a ditch in Pennsylvania somewhere having a very lucid dream?

 

Root was facing in her direction but her eyes were closed. Before Shaw could call out to her she twirled around to face the opposite way. Shaw’s mouth went dry at the way the tiny thong the woman was wearing framed Root’s ass. She clenched her fist not knowing whether to interrupt this or let Root keep going until she noticed her presence. Though from the way the woman quickly straddled the chair Shaw got the feeling that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

 

She blinked rapidly just to make sure there was nothing wrong with her eyes. The image before her did not fade. No, not a thing wrong with her eyes apparently. Root was still there, in that lingerie, also wearing…well those could only be described as “fuck me” heels, and grinding on a chair. Wait, Root slid from the chair, her body dropping towards the floor slowly, like lava. Shaw, feeling a bit like she was burning herself, shrugged out of her coat and let the garment fall to the floor to be completely forgotten.

 

She recognized the chair as one from their little used dining room. “I might need the table space from time to time to prep component parts,” Root had told her when she questioned the need for a dining room to begin with. “Or to spread you out across it sometime,” Root shrugged her shoulders, “Great use of the space, either way.”

 

She couldn’t fault that logic, but still it had felt a little too domestic to just let it go completely. “Okay, but explain why you need six chairs then.” Shaw no longer needed Root to explain the chairs. The woman could buy all the useless chairs she wanted if this was the result.

 

The vocalist practically moaned something about being a “fucking hurricane,” as Root dipped low, popped back up and worked her hips in tight circles to the beat. Shaw licked her lips. Root, still oblivious to her presence, kept on moving, rolling her head back and forth in time with the song, whipping her hair out around her. One hand on the back of the chair now to keep her steady, she bobbed up and down a few times while running her free hand from her neck down across her chest and over her belly.

 

Shaw knew she most likely looked like an idiot just standing there in the doorway but she couldn’t bring herself to move. This was one of the hottest fucking things she had ever seen in her life. She felt a pang of something in her chest when the beat slowed marking the end of the song. She watched as Root brought herself to her knees with the final chords. She bowed her head in supplication to her invisible audience. Shaw let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding until that moment. Fuck.

 

Root stayed there kneeling with her forehead resting on the seat of the chair as the final note died away. After a few seconds the beat picked up again, the song clearly on repeat. Shaw wondered for a moment how long Root had been up to whatever the hell this was.

 

She was speaking before she even realized it, “So were you planning on telling me that you and Voltron had reached a whole new level of codependent kink?”

 

Root turned her head so that Shaw could see one bright brown eye through the soft fall of her hair, “Sameen, you’re back early.” The smile beginning to form at that realization, Shaw noticed, was a genuine one.

 

“This is clearly a surprise to you.” Shaw crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. It was weird that the Machine hadn’t whispered about her arrival in Root’s ear. Of course if it was busy, paying attention to something else, “What She can’t multitask anymore?” Not that Shaw could focus on much more than the way Root looked right now either, but she wasn’t an artificial super intelligence.

 

Root stood with a shake of her head. “Not sure what you’re getting at, since you know She can’t see in here.”

 

“Well, you seem surprised that I’m home and if our no camera rule…”

 

“Your no camera rule,” Root corrected her. She didn’t have Shaw’s hang ups about the Machine taking a curious peek every once in a while but she also knew to pick her battles when it came to Sameen’s tolerance for Her involvement in their personal life, thus the no cameras in the bedroom rule.

 

Shaw’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “If the rule still applies then who is all this,” She waved at the chair and Root’s state of undress, “For?”

 

“No one in particular. I’m practicing.” Root took a few steps forward. The click of her heels popped in time to the beat still trilling out from the speakers.

 

Shaw was sure she was going to regret asking but she did anyway, “For what?”

 

“New mission.” Root was now a bit more than an arm’s length away from her. Shaw thought she was going to close the distance between them but the other woman veered to the left at the last moment and turned towards their dresser. She picked up a small remote from the top of it and turned down the music.

 

Shaw stepped fully into the bedroom. “As what?”

 

Root bit her lip and idly rubbed her chest.

 

Shaw looked her up and down, from her ridiculously high heels to the more extravagant than normal lingerie to the extra volume of her tousled hair. The penny dropped, “No, no way.”

 

“The club owners are trafficking some majorly suspect party drugs, Sweetie. It’s only a matter of time before there’s a lethal OD. We needed an in,” Root did a little spin, “And well, when in Rome.”

 

“Give pervs lap dances? No.” This was unacceptable.

 

Root shrugged her shoulders, “Place like this, lap dances are sometimes part of the job.”

 

“Not for everyone. You can shake your glittery thong without getting up close and personal.” A few twirls around a pole from the safety of the stage and in full view of the bouncers were one thing. A thing Shaw wasn’t overly excited for her…Root, to do but still relatively safe. A steady bump and grind in some grungy backroom where some jackhole could actually get his sticky hands on Root? No way in fucking hell was that going down on her watch.

 

Root didn’t seem to get how problematic this situation was, “What if someone really likes me? I have to be authentic.”

 

“This is not the time to be all method, Root.”

 

“You didn’t mind my method acting when I was working in that bakery.” She took a half a step towards Shaw.

 

Okay, the reason for that should have been obvious. “You brought home sticky buns every night for a week.”

 

She took another step forward. Shaw could almost feel the heat of her skin. “When I was a sommelier that time…”

 

“Booze, Root. Expensive booze.” They had had a great time with a case of stupidly expensive Champagne after the fact.

 

“Or when I was working at the zoo.”

 

“The iguana was cool.” It almost bit Lionel, so hilarious.

 

Root tilted her head to smile down at her. Damn sexy heels, making their height difference even more pronounced. “Maybe no one will want a dance,” She mused.

 

Shaw snorted, “Yeah, right. You’re going to be the hottest thing going in that dump.”

 

“It’s actually a nice set up for an adult entertainment establishment.”

 

“It’s a strip club, Root. One with owners who apparently moonlight as drug dealers, how nice can it freaking be?”

 

“Alright maybe you have a point,” Root pursed her lips, “Are we really going to argue about it?”

 

“No,” Shaw shook her head. “I can think of a lot better things we could be doing.”

 

“Agreed,” Root smiled. She took Shaw’s jaw in her hands and leaned down to kiss her. Shaw, for her part, had to lean up on her toes to meet her but the awkward angle was worth it after forgoing the feeling of Root’s lips on hers for nearly a month.

 

Root pressed in closer, tilting her head to the side, her lips parted. Shaw responded in kind. Her hands found their way to Root’s hips for balance; her skin warm and smooth under Shaw’s palms. Root snaked a hand down to wrap around Shaw’s waist. One quick tug on her injured side and the moment swiftly crashed and burned.

 

A sharp wave of agony exploded from her bruised and aching ribs. Root’s little show had distracted Shaw from the dull throb in her side but everything roared back with a vengeance once pressure was applied. Shaw flinched and sucked in a pained breath before she could stop herself. Root froze. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Shaw’s face. “Root,” She began in a placating tone.

 

“Don’t!” Root shrugged off Shaw’s grip and took a half-step backwards. Then she reached for the hem of her shirt and slowly slid it up and over Shaw’s head. Shaw cooperated without further protest; she knew it would only make things worse if she tried to stall Root’s examination at this point. Once her shirt was off she leaned back against the bedroom wall. Root’s eyes widened when she got a good look at her torso. Shaw would have laughed at her expression if she wasn’t sure she was about to be in trouble.

 

“Sameen,” Root hissed. She ghosted her palm against Shaw’s injured side. It looked like she was about to tear up. She still lost it a little whenever Shaw got hurt. The boys had of course told her about Root’s downward spiral when she had gone missing. Root was a force of nature; even before the Machine she had left nothing but chaos in her wake. The knowledge that she was the only thing in the world that could bring Root so low was a heady concept for Shaw.

 

It was also something that she would never allow to happen again.

 

“The other guy is going to have to use a walker for the rest of his life.” She cupped Root’s chin in her hand to bring her eyes back up to her face, “I’m okay. Nothing is even broken.” She brushed her thumb against Root’s cheek, “But even if it was, I came back. I will always do everything I can to make sure I come back for you, Root.” It was the only promise Shaw knew she could make her that would mean a damn.

 

She stood there silently staring at Shaw’s side for a few minutes. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that when I found out you were leaving.”

 

“Root.” She placed her fingers over Shaw’s lips to keep her from saying anything else.

 

“No, Sam, let me say this.” Shaw nodded for her to continue. The fingers on her lips slipped down and around to the back of her neck where they began to play with the hairs too short to make it into Shaw’s ponytail. Root swallowed, “You were right. We all have to pull our weight on this team and that means sometimes you have to go out there without me. I will tell you right now that I am never going to like it, but I promise from now on I won’t be a brat about it.”

 

“Yeah right, you’re a brat about everything,” Shaw grumbled to lighten the mood.

 

Root rolled her eyes at that. “Okay, how about I will pout but I won’t actively try to stop you?”

 

“Deal,” Shaw nodded. She looked away from Root’s face, “And I won’t walk out without a proper goodbye before a mission again. I know that wasn’t cool.”

 

“I’d appreciate that, Sweetie.”

 

Shaw slid her hands out to grasp Root’s hips. She pulled her closer. “So are we good?”

 

She smiled and wrapped an arm carefully around Shaw’s waist while the other tugged her hair out of its messy ponytail, “We were always good.”

 

“In that case,” Shaw leaned forward to trail her lips across Root’s shoulder. She traced the scar there, where she first left her mark what now seemed like lifetimes ago, with her tongue. Root sighed and tightened her hand in her hair. Shaw nipped the skin then knowing Root liked a little salt with her sweet. The hand in her hair tightened to a painful degree and she smiled, she liked a little salt too. She raked her teeth over the Root’s skin again.

 

“Shaw,” Root groaned, “Don’t do anything I’ll have to go buy concealer for later.”

 

She smirked against Root’s collarbone. “Afraid you’ll get fewer tips if they know you belong to somebody?” Shaw tightened her grip on her hips. Maybe she’d leave a bruise or two there as well for good measure, anything to put the creeps off of Root’s scent. “Fuck that, you don’t need the cash anyway.”

 

Root’s eyes narrowed as she caught on to Shaw’s game. “My cover does though.” She pulled back on Shaw’s hair to get her to stop sucking on her skin. “No hickies. I already have to deal with the scars.”

 

“Scars are hot, Root,” Shaw mumbled distractedly, dazed by the feel of Root’s skin. She had really been gone way too long.

 

Root managed to create a bit of space between them with a hand to her shoulder. “Not everyone is as in to them as you.” Was Root really worried about how she looked to a bunch of randoms? That was crazy.

 

“Then they’re blind. You’re hot as hell.” Shaw brushed her thumb across what she knew to be the pale remnant of a particularly deep knife wound just above Root’s right hip. She tilted her head to look her in the eyes. “Scars mean that you survived. That you’re tough, brave,” Shaw grinned, “And sometimes really stupid.”

 

Root quirked her lips, “I was wondering when the un-Shaw like flattery was going to stop.”

 

“Is it flattery if it’s true?”

 

“Not true if you’re calling me stupid,” Root laughed.

 

“You’re not stupid,” Shaw conceded, “You just do stupid crap with your body sometimes.” Frankly, the risks Root sometimes took pissed Shaw off if she thought about them too much.

 

Root lightly ran her fingers down Shaw’s injured side, “Uh huh.”

 

“That was the number being stupid not me.”

 

“Keep telling yourself that, Sweetie.” Shaw was about to argue further when her stomach growled. Loudly. Root chuckled and pulled back, “Come on. She ordered a pizza for me last night. There’s still about half of it in the fridge.”

 

“It’s not that all vegetable crap is it?” Shaw scowled.

 

“Vegetables are good for you.” Root tapped her on the nose, which caused her scowl to deepen.

 

“So is not getting shot at on the regular,” Shaw growled. “Don’t see you telling me to switch jobs just because it’s good for me.”

 

Root stepped away from her and turned to walk to their closet to presumably get dressed. “I’m crazy, but I’m not that crazy.”

 

Shaw decided to let that one go. Too easy. “So about these lap dances.”

 

Root shook her head. Shaw would bet that she was rolling her eyes. “Is this genuine concern for my safety or is someone a little jealous?” She called over her shoulder.

 

Shaw wasn’t jealous. She didn’t do jealousy. But Root was hers. Just like she was Root’s. They looked out for each other. Shaw thought they had an understanding about that.

 

She surged forward, reached out and grabbed Root’s side just above her left hip. Root stopped walking. Shaw stepped in close and stood on her toes so she could whisper in Root’s good ear, “I don’t share.”

 

Food, guns, Root: once Shaw decided that something was hers, no one else got to have it; this was non-negotiable. Okay, so the food and guns she shared with Root sometimes but she was the only one. She couldn’t have Root if the woman died due to an inferior arsenal and sometimes the nerd got stuck in her own head and forgot to eat. Shaw was supposed to protect her, so sharing with Root was part of the deal. No one else though. People could look, that was kinda hot at times actually, but they did not get to touch.

 

“You going all cavewoman simply thrills me, Sameen,” Root purred. It was one of the rare instances where Shaw couldn’t tell if Root was being serious or not.

 

She opted to do a little damage control just in case. A pissed off Root was the surest way not to get laid this afternoon and after being gone for weeks and everything Shaw had seen once she arrived home she really needed to get laid. More so, she needed for Root to be safe. Well, as safe as she could be given their line of work. Angry Root did not make good choices.

 

Shaw placed a kiss in the middle of Root’s back and then rested her forehead between her shoulders. “I get that you have to do what you have to do for the mission. But you do not have to let some asshole that doesn’t deserve the privilege of being around you, let alone having hands on your skin, maul you for this job.”

 

“Sam,” Root sighed her name in that little breathy way that she had when Shaw managed to express something almost resembling sentiment. She turned around making sure to keep Shaw’s hand on her skin. Then with a hand on her jaw she tilted Shaw’s chin up so that she was looking in her eyes. “Fine, I think I can talk my way out of any lap dances,” Root caved.

 

“Good,” Shaw huffed. She jerked Root closer. “The only person getting any private dances from you better be me.”

 

Root canted her head to the side; her lips ticked up into an impish grin, “Private dancer huh?”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes. “A Tina Turner joke right now is far too easy for you.”

 

She rolled her hips into Shaw’s, “What about you? Will you be easy for me?”

 

“Sorry Root,” Shaw growled as she slid her hands to the back of Root’s thighs. With a quick tug Root’s feet left the ground. She let out a little shriek at the move and then wrapped her legs around a grinning Shaw.

 

“Your side,” Root gasped out as she felt the wet slide of Shaw’s tongue in the valley between her breasts.

 

“Is just fine,” Shaw assured her, though the words were slightly muffled. “Now, I think I have to remind you of a few things before your mission.” She carried Root towards the bed. “I’m going to need you to totally focus on what I’m about to say so no topping for you.” She punctuated that statement with a bite at the tendons of Root’s straining neck.

 

“By all means, Sameen,” Root moaned as her back hit the sheets. “I’m all ears.”

 

“Now remember that little trick I showed you with your thumb if anyone gets handsy,” Shaw instructed. She made a couple of jabbing motions in the air with her own thumb for good measure as they walked towards Finch’s workstation later that night.

 

Root tilted her head to smile down indulgently at her, “You know I can take care of myself, Sweetie.”

 

“I do know that,” Shaw conceded, “But I also know that drunk, horny guys can be unpredictable, Root.” She couldn’t exactly hide a taser in the thong Shaw had reluctantly allowed her to pull on under the jeans Root was now wearing. Though Shaw had made sure one was tucked inside of Root’s purse before they left the apartment.

 

“What do you mean Ms. Shaw?” Finch asked spinning in his chair to face them, “As far as I know the patrons have never accosted any of the bartenders.”

 

That brought Shaw up short, “Bartender?” She cut her eyes over to Root who stopped walking to give Bear a rubdown.

 

“Yes, didn’t she fill you in?” Finch nervously glanced over at Root as if realizing he had inadvertently stumbled into one of her schemes. “Due to the establishment’s particular clientele, Ms. Groves will be working at the bar while Mr. Reese,” He adjusted his glasses, “Handles performance duties.”

 

“Reese?” Shaw muttered dumbly.

 

“We bought him a pair of chaps for the occasion. Special order,” Root smiled wickedly at Reese and smacked him on the ass as he stepped past her towards the stairs. Clearly he was eager to get this number over with. “Ready to saddle up cowboy?”

 

He adjusted the strap on the duffle bag he had on his shoulder, “I hate you so much right now.”

 

Root glanced her way and winked at Shaw before focusing back on Reese, “Awe and I was going to offer to get you liquored up for free so you’d relax before your big debut too. Well, I’m sure the boys won’t mind at all if you’re a little stiff.” She pushed him in the small of his back so he’d start moving up the stairs.

 

Reese looked like he was torn between shooting her or strangling her with his bare hands. Shaw knew the feeling intimately. “Word on the street is they prefer it stiff actually.” Root shrugged, “Dunno, never been my cup of tea.” Reese’s hand twitched as if he had made his decision.

 

“Mr. Reese,” Finch called out to them. Reese went completely still and looked back at him. “Try not to shoot Ms. Groves for her enthusiasm.”

 

“No promises, Finch.”

 

“Don’t worry his six shooter is full of blanks,” Root quipped. Her enjoyment over Reese’s discomfort and his inability to do anything to remedy it was on clear display. “Come on,” She looped her arm through his, “I’m sure that the boys are eagerly awaiting the Bone Ranger’s arrival.” Reese jerked away from her with a scowl.

 

Shaw had been played. She had been played like an entire orchestra. She should have been furious. But one look at a smiling Root and a glowering Reese and she couldn’t find it in herself to be mad. Shaw got the feeling that the whole scene that afternoon was Root’s twisted way of apologizing without having the words “I’m sorry” pass her lips. Or it could be she was so forgiving because she was still high on endorphins from the afternoon in bed with her perky psycho.

 

“Hey, Root?” She called out after them.

 

The taller woman turned, “Yes, Sam?” Were those nerves showing in her eyes? Shaw smiled to herself, good she should be nervous after what she pulled. Just because she wasn’t really mad didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun. Shaw promised herself she’d make Root pay for her little trick, multiple times, in handcuffs, later tonight.

 

But for now going after someone else was far more entertaining, “Tell Her to take pictures. I still owe Zoe one.” Reese made a squawking noise at that. “This should get me square with her for life.”

 

 


End file.
